You Deserve More Than That
by super manako sohma
Summary: The next thing I knew, Butters had flung himself on me, gripping me tight in a warm hug.“It’s not fine!” He screamed, 'it’s not fine at all! You deserve more than that, Kenny'" Fluffy Bunny.


Mana here. Wooo fanfiction's back up! I've been waiting to post this. Recently I've become a fan of Butters/Kenny, because well, why not? It's so cute! They're complete opposites, yet they're into the same things. Haha. This is my first Bunny fanfic, and I hope you will like it =)

I do not own ze South Park. Damn, huh?

You Deserve More Than That

"That's it! I've fucking had it!"

I punched the splintery kitchen table as hard as I could, not caring that it resulted in a bloody hand and a hell of a lot of hurt afterwards. Physical pain doesn't matter when your ears are already bleeding to the sound of your drunken parents bickering loudly about the same stupid shit they always bicker about when they're drunk.

A beer bottle shattered above my head on my mother's part. I brushed the glass shards off of my hair, resulting in more tiny cuts on my hand. Fuck, it hurts.

"SHUT UP KINNEY!" She screamed at me.

"Wow, you're talking to me!" I shouted back, "that's a new one!"

"Ay! Don't be smart with me!"

I stood up, jerking the table forward.

"Where do you think you're going?" My father roared.

"Like you guys give a crap!"

And I left my house, slamming the door as hard as I could behind me.

They didn't care at all. They never cared. That's pretty much why I've spent all my life raising myself. I did the best I could at school with little to no help. I've learned all the tricks of the trade and developed excellent street smarts. I've done things that I am not too proud of, and sadly enough, I've perfected them. And for what? Nothing. Nothing at all. Nobody was there to acknowledge me for anything, and especially not my parents. Even when I've officially became the biggest whore in South Park since Lianne Cartman, I didn't get one goddamn word for it. I didn't want to be like that, honestly. I guess you could say I'm a pretty horny guy, but I grew up without the smiles and touches of affection that I just wanted to be loved and needed by someone, and I didn't care who or what way. Eventually it evolved into an addiction and then a lifestyle. I'll admit, I'm not proud of it, but it sure made up for all my loveless times with my so-called "family."

The rain began to pour out onto me, and I had no interest in whoring myself out at the moment. I hugged myself, taking in what little warmth was stored in my orange hoodie. No, it's not the same orange hoodie from when I was little; I had long grown out of that. I never grew out of the style of the orange though. It's been a part of me for a long time, and I didn't want to give it up.

In a matter of minutes I was soaked. My dirty blond bangs stuck to my forehead, but I made no effort in poofing them out. Water began seeping into the holes of my beat-up Converse shoes, which I were a hand-me-down from Kevin. Yeah, it really sucks being poor. Almost everything that was mine was once either Kevin's or my father's; my shoes, most of my clothes, my bed, and even my porn.

I knew I was cold, because it came down to the point where I didn't care if I was stepping in puddles or not. Everything is numb.

I wandered aimlessly in the storm, not knowing where I was going. There was no fixed destination in mind when I stepped out that door, and I intended on keeping it that way. The only thing I knew was that there was no way I was going back home. Sure, I'm used to seeing my parents drunk all the time, but I've gotten so fucking tired of it. Is it so much to ask for a better family? I know you're supposed to love your family no matter what, but this is bullcrap.

I passed by my friends' neighborhoods, secretly jealous. They all had nice warm homes with loving families. But I knew better than to knock on their doors; I didn't want their pity. No, I'm not saying it in a bad way. I mean, it's nice that they care about me and stuff. I just really hate being a burden to people.

I shivered in my drenched hoodie. It's late, that is a fact. I don't even know what time it is, but I don't care. Eventually a McDonald's with a flashing neon "24 Hours" sign catches my eye, and I begin to realize just how hungry I am. I felt inside the back pocket of my tight skinny jeans and to my delight I found I had two dollars. That should give me a decent meal, for once. I entered the establishment, greeted by bright, friendly colors and a whoosh of warmth and the wafting scent of French fries in the back. I ordered a cheeseburger and a cherry coke because apparently the magical "Dollar Menu" that was said to consist of a big-ass burger, fries, nuggets and a drink was just one big fat lie. But oh well, this shit's better than frozen waffles and water.

I took a seat by the window in a booth; no one was even inside the restaurant except for some homeless guy trying to crash for the night. That actually didn't sound like such a bad idea.

I began on my cheeseburger and oh my God, this is the best fucking thing I've ever had, not counting the times I've stayed for dinner at Cartman's, Stan's and Kyle's houses. Now their parents knew how to cook.

"Kenny?" I jump up at the sound of my name.

It was Butters.

He took a seat right in front of me in my booth, holding a little paper receipt with a number. Butters, like me, didn't feel a need to change his style of clothing; he kept to the same colors, but this time his pants were corduroy and his jacket was a sports coat. From the looks of it he'd been walking out as I have, yet he didn't resemble my waterlogged vogue; then I saw he had an umbrella with him. But why would he be here in the middle of the night?

"Oh, good, it is you Kenny," he breaths out a sigh of relief, "I was wondering what I would do if it wasn't."

I wanted to say, "well who else in South Park wears an orange hoodie," but I smiled, grateful that someone like him is even talking to me. I did like Butters, a lot. He's a lot different from the guys I grew up with; he never swore, he was naïve, kind, innocent, and, I have to admit, cute. I mean, Stan and Kyle were awesome and pretty damn hot; the thought of them making out starts a party in my pants. Whereas Butters; Butters had a heart full of magic, as they say. He gave me a different feeling, but I know for sure it wasn't lust. Hell, Butters was _adorable_.

He reached his hand over to my face; normally I'd back away if it were anyone else. I stood still and closed my eyes as he wiped away the raindrops from my face with his sleeve. I couldn't help but smile when the warmth came in contact with my cheek; I didn't realize just how cold I was. And his scent, well that was another story. Then he moved his hands toward my waist, lifting up my soaked hoodie. I raised my arms slowly, as if reading his mind, and he pulled it off completely, folding it and setting it in the corner of his seat.

"You're gonna catch a cold if you don't dry off properly," he said taking off his blue coat and draping it on my black t-shirt (which was another hand-me-down from Kevin) clad shoulders.

"Oh," I croaked, "thanks."

I soaked in Butters' coat; it was warm and it smelled like him; like amaretto and French vanilla. I was in bliss. Butters smiled at me from the other side, and I noticed he was wearing a black T-shirt like me. Probably his pajama shirt, since I never see him wear anything of the sort at school. He normally dressed in fancy clothes; collared shirts that buttoned down but keeping his forest green pants. I chuckled; the shirt reminded me of his "vampire" days, and I was wondering to myself where the hell I was when he was giving out free hickeys. But I stopped; it was a sin to think of Butters that way.

"Having dinner?" He says innocently. Again Butters, no shit, but I decided to be nice.

"Yeah," I said, "didn't wanna eat at home. What about you?"

"Oh," he grinded his knuckles together the way he did ever since elementary school, "I got sent to bed without supper, but I got hungry and snuck over here when my parents went to sleep."

I raised my eyebrows. Sneaking out? That took a lot for him to do; I was secretly proud.

"Why'd you get sent to bed without supper?"

"Oh, gee whiz, I accidentally put the Hamburger Helper where the coffee creamer was supposed to be and Dad thought it was creamer and put it in his coffee, and boy was he awfully sore when he found out it was Hamburger Helper."

I laughed out loud. I loved how he spoke in such stringy sentences.

"Seriously?" My parents would be willing to have anything in their coffee. Hell they'd be lucky to have coffee at all rather than the hot cups of boiled water my mom tries to pass off for tea.

The lady behind the counter called out an order number, which was probably Butters', since he stood up quickly.

"Yeah," he said as he went to retrieve his order, "I really should learn to behave myself."

I didn't know whether he was joking or serious, but I bet what little money I had on serious. Butters always beat himself up over the silliest things. I dunno, I guess it hurts me pretty bad trying to think what kind of shit his parents fed him all this life.

I finish the rest of my burger and began sipping on my drink. I did always like cherry coke; it was sexy. Shortly after I finished my food, Butters returned with a tray filled with two burgers, extra large fries, a salad, chicken nuggets, an apple pie, an ice cream and a milkshake. My jaw nearly dropped; that's like enough food to feed my family for a week.

"Is this 'tease the poor, starving boy?'" I ask him jokingly. I really did intend for it to be a joke, but he pushed the tray in my direction.

"Take as much as you want," he said as he unwrapped his burger.

I shook my head. As much as I was seriously still hungry, I couldn't stand taking food from anybody who offered. When people offer me food, it's like they're giving me charity money; as if I need another reminder that I'm poor.

"Oh come on, Kenny," he prodded, "actually I don't think I could finish it all by myself."

I couldn't deny eyes like those, nor could I handle the fact that he was going to throw anything he didn't finish in the trash, so I grabbed a French fry. It's been a while since I had French fries, and God were they good. I felt Butters smile at me as I crammed six fries in my mouth, and I felt myself go red.

"Dammit stop staring at me," I told him, again jokingly, to cover up for my blush.

"Sorry," he said, "I always like watching you eat."

My blushing continued. It took a lot for me to blush; hot bodies no longer did the trick as they did in the old days. But for some reason, Butters could set me off with just a simple curve of the lips.

"When you eat, you always look happy, and well, I like seeing you happy."

That warmed me up a little inside.

"I'm not Cartman," I said, to be funny. He laughed.

"Well, you know what I mean, don't you Ken?"

"Sure Butters."

We finished the rest of our meal silently. He let me have the other burger, a quarter-pounder, which made me even happier. Actually, I think I am starting to sound like Cartman, thinking about food all the time, but whatever. I was hungry. Butters shared his apple pie with me, but I made sure he got more; it was his after all. I agreed not to take a lick of his ice cream; since I knew him he never liked sharing dairy products, but he allowed for me to take a sip of his milkshake. It was strawberry; so like him.

By the time I stuffed my last French fry in my mouth, I was full. Not like those "oh, I guess dinner's over" full, but like actually "holy crap I'm fucking stuffed" full. I know it's not a lot of food for normal people to be stuffed, but I'm not used to having this much food in one sitting. Butters seemed pretty full as well, which made me glad, knowing that I didn't take too much of his dinner. Then again, he was pretty skinny, so I'm guessing he gets full quickly like me.

I stood up, and so did Butters. He was an inch shorter than me, but he's tried to convince me for the longest time that he was the same height as me. These little "conflicts" would end when I put my elbow on his shoulder and pretend to rest.

I did the honors of throwing away the contents of the tray for him, just to pay for my troubles. He handed me my hoodie, which was still wet, so he agreed to let me use his coat for the rest of the night. I insisted that I didn't mind the cold, partly because I didn't want him to walk all the way home without his warmth, but he said he protested gently.

"Just as long as you're warm, Kenny," he said.

I held the door open for him and we both made it outside where we were set to part. It was still raining so he opened up his umbrella.

"Thanks again, Butters," I said, "for the food."

"Aw, it was no trouble. Just call me over next time you're hungry, ok?"

I laughed; another poor joke? I doubt, it. He's just a sweet kid, watching out for me. It felt weird at first, but then I just remember that it's just Butters' nature to care. I ran my fingers through my hair but then stopped, as Butters' eyes were now fixed on my hand.

"What's that?" He asked. I remembered the wound on my hand from when I punched the table at home. Funny enough, it was still red and poofy. I tried to put it down and cover it up with my (actually, Butters') sleeve, but he grabbed it. I swear, that warm touch…

"Did you hurt yourself, Kenny?"

"Oh, that," I tried to be causal, "it's nothing."

"Aww but it looks kinda funny. You should probably get that fixed."

"No, it's fine. I'm used to it." I really was. My family couldn't really afford Band-Aids, or a legitimate first aid kit. During my childhood when I'd get scraped up quite a bit, I'd usually fix the problem with dad's alcohol. It burnt like hell on the wound, but it did the trick better than if I just let it out to dry.

I tried to pull my hand away, but his grip was too strong. Dammit, Butters let it go. I'm fine. But he looked at me with bright blue eyes that were filled with concern and worry.

"Seriously," I said trying to ease his fears, "I just got pissed off at my family, that's all."

"Your family?" He whispered.

"They just got drunk again and were being really lame and I got pissed off so I punched the table."

"I'm sorry."

"I told you, it's fine. I pretty much grew up that way so I'm used to it."

The next thing I knew, Butters had flung himself on me, gripping me tight in a warm hug. At first, I kinda had to expect it, since he was always the affectionate kind, but then I heard his little gasps and it sounded like his was crying. Crying about me?

"Dude, I'm telling you it's—"

"It's not fine!" He screamed, "it's not fine at all! You deserve more than that, Kenny!"

I felt the color from earlier return to my face and before I knew it tears were rolling down my cheeks. Why the hell they were there, I don't know. I guess it just breaks my heart to see Butters cry, since all my life I never saw him cry. Did it break my heart that he was crying because of me? Did I suddenly feel sorry for myself? I held onto Butters tight in the same manner he held me, deciding that I need his hug. I need his warmth, his tears, his concern. I need him.

"Butters," I mumbled, trying to hide the evident sadness in my voice.

We stayed like that for a long time, and it was pretty sweet. I could stay that way forever if I could, but since I couldn't I made the most of it, taking in more of his warmth, his scent, his aura; everything that was him. We exchanged silent sobs, his on my behalf, mine on his.

Then he pulled away from me, fixing up his face and de-wrinkling the front of his shirt.

"Sorry about that," he said, eyes to the ground.

"No, no, it's ok," my voice sounded raspy from the tears, "I really needed that. It's been a while since I had myself a good cry, and one every once in a while doesn't hurt."

"I guess not."

He smiled at me and I ruffled his hair. He's always so cute when he smiles, especially now, fresh after the tears.

"Well, I best be getting home now," Butters said, "just in case my parents go to check on me and then I'll be in deep trouble if they find out I left. Well good night, Kenny."

He left in the opposite direction of me.

I stood there for a moment; I told myself earlier that I wasn't intending to go home. And up to now, I guess I still don't want to go home. It's selfish, even for me, the poor kid who was taught to take anything anyone gives him, big or small, premium or crappy, old or new, with gratitude. But there was only one thing I wanted right now, one person I wanted to be with.

I ran in his direction.

"Butters wait!" I grabbed his shoulder. He turned around.

"Yes?"

"Um," I looked away, "is it ok if I come home with you?"

He blinked.

"I'm just saying, well…my parents are probably all passed out right now and they won't really care if I'm home."

He smiled. He took my arm, linking it with his and let me under his umbrella. And suddenly I felt content. Like everything in my crappy life just became all better.

"Of course, Kenny."

"And don't worry," I told him quickly, "I'll leave quietly so you don't get grounded again."

But he shook his head.

"You can stay as long as you wish, have breakfast with me if you have to!"

I chuckled.

"I might just do that then."

XX

That was pretty long; one of the longest oneshots I've ever written. I hoped you all liked it, but do leave a review, ok?


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